Gaiman and Tea Time

Nov 21-24 Gaiman to Comodoro Rivadavia to Puerto San Julian

Gaiman is an oddity in Argentina, it was founded back in 1903 by a group of Welsh settlers that were looking to start fresh away from all the rules and regulations within the English colonies. They set about homesteading and farming in the rich valley that even today is a green oasis in a sea of Patagonia flatlands. Our first impression when we seen the valley was that it looked like Drumheller with the badlands and hoodoos as a backdrop. We are not disappointed by the town, it is very well kept and has numerous historic buildings to look at. Along with the Welsh came their traditions and one of the most prominent is High Tea. There are a few very traditional tea houses, that serve up afternoon tea, scones, finger sandwiches and pastries, all on fine china by ladies dressed in traditional black and white servants’ uniforms complete with lace trimmed aprons. 

Very upper crust, but somehow cozy at the same time. What would a tea house be without a rose garden you might ask? Well these folks are not willing to find out because everywhere we turn there are beautiful rose gardens. I did not know that orange roses existed, but they do and are striking to look at.

We stay for two nights which allows us to explore the area a little bit as well. We take a side trip West to a hydroelectric dam and are treated with a nice little village at the base of the damn. Not where I would choose to live but a nice village all the same. There is a scenic route along the river for a few kilometers then the road changes direction  out of the valley.  We turn around and ride it back into the village then backtrack our route to Gaiman. A great day all around.

The next morning we are once again treated to breakfast in our room, nothing fancy just toasted baguette with jam and a thermos of coffee but it is nice that the hostess brings it to our room. We have to backtrack on the dead straight 40km section then rejoining Rte 3 and it is all South from there. Everything is going well and shortly after we hit the pavement of Rte3 Brenda’s chain breaks and once again it is roadside maintenance.

The chain is not only broken it has also suffered a twisted link from being run over on the highway. I do my best to straighten it and it seems to be good enough to run for the rest of the day. Rte3 is called the Ruta Azul (Blue Route) because it follows the Atlantic coast most of the way south, and maybe because there is a whole lot of blue sky to enjoy. 

We are aiming for the destination of Comodoro Rivadavia to meet up with the young couple that drove a limo from Argentina to Alaska. We met them in Cochrane the day before our annual car show, they entered their limo and I think they got an honorary plaque for longest distance travelled to get to the show. Comodoro is an oil and gas town that reminds me of Fort McMurray, expensive hotels and a somewhat tired appearance. After checking at a couple of spots we find a rather dumpy medium priced hotel. It pretty much feels like a work camp inside, everything is a little too old and unclean from overuse and neglect.

The owner of course is a friendly fellow who makes up for the lack of house keeping, and his Marlboros cover the other odors as he show us around the place. Brenda is a little horrified but after a thorough check of the bedding for bugs settles in for an uneasy night's sleep. I on the other hand sleep quite well as my tolerance for this type of environment is a little higher.

This is also a long weekend so the town is pretty much shut down, including the money exchange place and we are in need of Pesos. A bit of walking around and trying different bank machines proves futile so we decide to try at one of the fancy hotels. Sure enough they are willing to help with a small amount of USD conversion to Pesos and we are set to leave town. Well first we have breakfast, then we get stopped on the street by a radio station reporter for a quick interview about our trip. That was fun, but it was also in Spanish and charades don’t transfer well on radio. 

During the interview a passerby stopped to see what was happening, turns out he knows a guy in the next town who changes money. We discuss where and when then we are off to meet “the guy”. Sebastian “the guy” runs a motorcycle tour business and motorcycle repair shop. He offers to change money at the posted bank rate which is a deal breaker but he did take us to a view point of town and beach. Because of the constant winds here the national windsurfing championships are being held at the beach here in Radda Tilly. Honest, I could not make this shit up.

So far today we have gone 20km, and it is 2pm, we had planned on going to Punta San Julian which is 500km down the road, man we gotta get going. Lucky for us the weather is holding out and we are treated to a tail wind for the first few hundred kilometers.  The last couple hundred were a different storey as the wind shifted and we fought a cross wind the rest of the day. This of course causes us to use way more fuel than normal and the jerry cans are put to use once again before we reach San Julian, even though we had filled up less than 200km from town.

San Julian is home to a replica of the sailing ship used by Magellan when he discovered Patagonia back in 1520, yes that number is correct. Other than that there is a naval base and a naval museum, and during the Falkland Island crisis back in the early 80’s it was used as an air base. It seemed that back during the crisis it was a world-wide news event and I can remember some of the focus that it was given even though I was in junior high. Looking at the location and that England was claiming it as theirs it proves that once again the bully on the playground sometimes wins. But I digress. 

Penguins are like gophers.

Nov. 20 Puerto Madryn to Gaiman via Punto Tombo

Now that we have seen sea lions, and whales it was time to cross penguins off the list as well. We have been told that the best place to see them is at Punto Tombo, which is 200km south of Madryn. The morning got sidetracked when I noticed another broken bolt in the skid plate on my bike. I have no idea why these keep breaking but it is getting annoying. I took the bike to a repair shop as the hotel did not have a drill. The first shop could not help me until 3:30pm as he was in the middle of putting an engine back together, he did suggest I try another shop up the street. When I pulled up the guys were all sitting around drinking Mate, perfect they are not busy. The shop is called Autopartes Capitol, which is actually a chopper and hot rod shop. The owner is very helpful and sends one of his guys to the hardware store to buy some long bolts while we drill out the frame. When the guy returns with the bolts they are too short and that was the longest they had; time for plan B. He had some ready-rod in the back so we bent them into a U-bolt, drilled a couple more holes in the skidplate and mounted it the best we could. I think this will be the last time I have to worry about broken bolts in the skidplate on this bike. It seems very sturdy so far and I guess only time will tell if it hold up.

Back to the hotel and load up the bikes again, our planned early start is now looking like 12:30. We take a dirt road Rte#1 from Madryn to Rawson in order to shave off a few kilometers, the road is in good condition and quite large and we figure it is a good indication of what Rte 40 has to offer. Lots of gravel covering a rutted road underneath. This makes it a bit tricky at times because the front wheel grabs the ruts and causes the bike to fish tail a bit every so often. This is not usually a big concern and have become accustomed to the feeling of the bike kicking around beneath us, at this point we are standing on the pegs. If we were sitting down it would be alot less comfortable. Anyway, Rawson greets us with its garbage dump and 25C weather, stinky is being generous, then the town itself turns out to look fairly nice. We just pass through and do not really take much time to look around, then it is onto pavement for the last stretch down to Tombo. Once inside the park gate the pavement ends and the last 20km is a dusty dirt road. About this time the gas light comes on, hmm that wind seems to be making the bikes burn alot more fuel than usual.

This is a Guanacoe not a penguin silly.

The park at Punto Tombo is very well organized and starts off with a tour through a interpretive center to read about the penguins as well as the numerous other animal species that live within the park. Everything is covered from feathers to hoofs. We were surprised to see that there are 18 different kinds of penguins.

At this time of year the penquins are still in their burrows waiting for their eggs to hatch. We expected to see millions of penguins on the beach but instead we see what reminded me of a gopher infestation. The hills are covered with burrows and the penguin pairs take turns sitting on the egg while the other goes out to sea to eat. 

There is a steady procession to and from the water, and some of the burrows are kilometers away from the shore. They are so far from the shore that the local rancher has sheep sleeping amongst the penguins. Of course with all this walking they do they cross the paths set out by the park people and we get to see them up close and personal. One little guy even tried to nip at Brenda’s boot as she was posing for a picture with him. They seem to have the system figured out, but we are shocked at how far the hatchlings will have to walk in order to get to water. It is no wonder that there is a high attrition rate for them, the sea gulls and foxes will have some easy pickings once they start their march.

Nearly 6pm and the park is closing so we have to make tracks, we dump in the jerry cans and do some math. Nope not gonna make it to Gaiman, and that is the closest gas station. I see a quad parked beside one of the buildings and figure if the parks people have a quad they must have gas. Sure enough they sell us a couple of liters of Naphta and we are set for fuel. The shortest distance in this case is another dirt road that cuts across country to Gaiman from the park turn off. 40km of dead straight gravel road and not a thing to look at besides the road, because if you look away for a second that is when you drift into the deep gravel or hit a rut, this is definitely preparation for Rte40.